REDBURN 

OR  THE 
SCHOOLMASTER 

MELVILLE? 

1845 


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Q 
12 

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I  ID  i  U  i  i 


SCHOOLMASTER  OP  A  MORNING. 


N  E  W  -  Y  O  R  K  : 
WM.  M.  CHRISTY,  No.  2,  ASTOR  HOUSE. 

M  DCCC  XLV. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  tne  year  1844, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  tlie  District  Court  for  the  Southern  District  of 

New- York. 


I.DBWIO.     PRINT! 

Nos.  TO  and  72,  Yesey-st. 


THE    ANNOUNCEMENT. 


CANTO    I. 


i. 

CLOSE  where  Tioga's  hill- side  fires 
Smoke,  dull,  above  Owego's  spires, 
On  a  sweet  stream  whose  silvery  tide 
Swells  the  broad  Susquehannah's  pride, 
So  near  the  road  that  passers-by 
Hear  the  loud  laugh  ring  merrily, 
Embrown'd  and  rotted  by  long  years, 
Its  front  a  district  school-house  rears  : 
Here  congregate  a  healthy  flock, 
Stout  scions  of  a  sturdy  stock ! 
Here  the  thwack'd  dullard  rubs  his  sconce, 
Here,  ferule -smitten,  roars  the  dunce, 
Here  boy  and  girl  sit  side  by  side, 
And  gallantry  gives  way  to  pride 


© 


REUBURN. 


When  mingle  in  the  mental  strife 
The  future  man  and  future  wife. 

ii. 

Here,  too,  when  snows  have  robed  the  hills, 
And  crisping  frosts  have  edged  the  rills, 
When  smoking  horses  spurn  the  ground 
And  sleigh-bells  ring  with  merry  sound — 
Mocking  the  moaning  of  the  trees, — 
Here,  with  the  viol  'twixt  his  knees 
The  man  of  octaves  leads  the  song, 
And  guides  the  voices  of  the  throng. 
And  here,  too,  on  God's  holy  day, 
Good  folk  repair  to  praise  and  pray  : 
The  patriarch  leaning  on  his  staff, 
The  skipping  child  with  merry  laugh, 
The  sober  dame  that  chides  its  mirth, 
The  maid,  light  springing  from  the  earth, 
The  growing  swain,  the  lusty  sire, 
Don,  all,  their  holiday  attire, 
Dot,  in  gay  guise,  the  winding  road, 
And  go  up  joyful  to  the  house  of  God. 


THE  ANNOUNCEMENT. 


III. 

Now,  as  around  the  portal  stand 
The  swains,  with  pocket-buried  hand, 
Their  Sunday  garments  with  the  fair 
Their  gaze  of  admiration  share — 
There  are  who  fancy  sun-burnt  hinds 
Snuff  bashfulness  up  with  the  winds, 
That  diffidence  in  meadows  breeds 
And  on  grass-kissing  zephyrs  feeds — 
Let  such  but  view  our  school-house  porch  : 
Does  shame  the  bumpkin's  visage  scorch  ? 
Can  town-bred  fops  with  bolder  air 
Than  gaping  boors  at  beauty  stare  ? 
Trust  rne,  fresh  breezes  never  can, 
Nor  corn-fields,  make  a  modest  man  ; — 
And  though  Tioga's  sturdy  race 
Haply  might  boast  the  florid  face, 
Theirs  was  an  everlasting  blush, 
And  suns  and  swarthy  labour  caused  the  flush. 


REDBURN. 


Now  from  the  distant  highway,  heaiv 
What  hideous  noise  salutes  the  ear  I 
Mounted  a  goodly  height  in  air 

And  doubled  up  within 
The  backless  ruin  of  a  chair, 
Whose  seat,  by  dint  of  constant  wear,. 
Served  as  a  passage  for  the  air, 
Save  when  a  human  shape  sat  there, — 

With  knees  beneath  his  chin, 
Th'  approaching  priest  with  many  a  thwack 
Galls  fearfully  his  donkey's  back  ,• 
And  onward,  as  his  voiceful  wheels 
With  grating  and  discordant  squeals- 

For  grease  entreating,  roll, 
Full  many  a  wistful  glance  he  steals 

Towards  the  distant  goal. 

v. 

With  some  half-dozen  falls  or  more 
The  spavin'd  charger  finds  the  door. 


THE  ANNOUNCEMENT. 


Now  'neath  the  shed  the  beast  is  tied, 
The  priest  looks  grave  and  dignified, 
Pulls  down  his  vest  to  make  it  meet 
The  clothes  it  long  hath  ceased  to  greet, 
Gives  back  each  yeoman's  iron  grasp 
With  a  well-meant  but  gentler  clasp, 
Enters  the  house  with  serious  air, 
And  brushing  up  his  scatter'd  hair, 
Looks  round  upon  his  flock  with  care, 
To  see  if  all  the  sheep  are  there. 


VI. 


Soon  rises  from  the  assembled!  throng 
The  simple  sound  of  rustic  song, 
As  old  and  young  together  raise 
Their  grateful  notes  in  heartfelt  praise 
And  now  the  solemn  prayer  ascends, 
The  yielding  knee  in  suppliance  bends, 
And  all,  by  grave  and  decorous  mien, 
Lend  grace  and  beauty  to  the  scene. 

. 
1* 


10  REDBURX. 


The  sermon  through, — the  Scriptures  read, 

The  solemn  benediction  said, 

And  all  the  simple  service  o'er, 

The  people  turn  them  to  the  door — 

But  sudden  halt  and  look  around 

To  hear  of  Harvey's  voice  the  sound ; 

Young  Harvey,  who  amid  the  train 

A  Brummel  was, — much  envied  swain, — 

Who  jealous  rivals  oft  would  vex 

By  his  vast  influence  with  the  sex, 

But  was  so  brave  and  strong  of  limb, 

That  they  yet  fear'd  who  envied  him. 

VII. 

Potent  Ambition  oft  hath  moved 
Those,  who  have  hated  or  have  loved, 
To  win,  by  deeds  of  high  renown, 
Fame,  woman,  riches,  or  a  crown. 
Harvey,  to  tell  the  honest  truth, 
Hated  not  e'en  the  envious  youth 
Who  hated  him, — for  conscious  worth 
Makes  hate  and  jealousy  its  mirth. 


THE  ANNOUNCEMENT. 


11 


But  Eros,  with  a  poison'd  arrow, 
Had  fired  with  love  his  youthful  marrow. 
The  smooth,  brown  hair,  the  rich,  red  lip, 
The  white  chin  with  its  dimpled  tip, 
The  arching  brow,  the  fringing  lash 
'Neath  which  the  eye  would  melt  or  flash, 
The  bounding  step,  the  ringing  voice, 
The  laugh  which  made  the  heart  rejoice, 
And  every  other  charm  and  grace 
Marking  sweet  Ellen's  form  or  face, 
Had  touch'd  young  Harvey's  tender  heart, 
And  bade  him  act  some  nobler  part. 
Prompted  by  hope,  inspired  by  love, 
With  zealous  diligence  he  strove,—- 
Became  a  politician, — sought 
For  freemen's  suffrages  unbought, 
Reached  e'en  the  weathercock  of  fame, 
And  *  School-Inspector '  wrote  his  name. 

VIII. 

His  wishes  gained, — the  Inspector  found 
That  Glory  was  an  empty  sound  ; 


12  REDBURN. 


For  often  when  the  fading  sun 
Told  him  his  daily  toil  was  done, 
When  home  he  hied  from  field  or  woody 
Thinking  in  happy,  musing  mood, 
How  he  would  doff  his  shabby  suit, 
Spurn  the  coarse  cow-hide  from  his  foot. 
To  scintillation  brush  his  hair 
And  then  to  Ellen's  home  repair, — 
Some  ragged  urchin  he  would  meet, 
With  quicken'd  breath  and  hastening  feet,. 
To  dash  to  earth  the  frothing  cup 
With  expectation  bubbling  up, 
And  bid  him  for  such  recreation 
Attend  some  dull  examination. 

IX. 

Such  circumstances  often  happing, 

Ellen  thought  Harvey's  love  was  napping, 

Gave  sweeter  smiles  to  other  swains, 

And  filPd  his  heart  with  cruel  pains. 

Disgusted,  our  Inspector  swore, 

He  'd  seek  nor  fame  nor  honour  more, 


THE  ANNOUNCEMENT.  13 

And  once  his  term  of  office  past, 
His  first  offence  should  be  his  last. 


And  now  young  Harvey  spake,  and  told— 

Growing  with  every  word  more  bold — 

How,  on  the  morrow  would  arrive 

From  great  Manhatta's  teeming  hive, — 

Where  human  bees  on  busy  wing 

Swarm,  build,  get,  save,  are  stung  and  sting, — 

A  pedagogue  of  likely  parts, 

SkilPd  in  the  sciences  and  arts, 

To  train  the  blossoming  idea, 

And  fill  Tioga's  boys  with  fear  ; 

How,  on  the  morrow,  just  as  soon 

As  dawning  into  day  had  grown, 

Those  boys  should  to  the  school  repair, 

Kindle  the  fading  embers  there, 

Pile  the  big,  pitchy  pine-knots  higher, 

To  build  the  blazing,  crackling  fire, 

In  gay  and  healthy  sports  engage, 

Or  turn  the  ragged,  thumb-worn  page, 


14  REDBURN. 


Till  in  the  stage-coach  rumbling  near 
The  new  schoolmaster  should  appear, 
To  lead  them  safe  through  learning's  bog, 
And — when  they  needed  it — to  flog. 

XI. 

Have  you  ne'er,  as  ;;ou  sat  of  a  summer's  day 

In  the  shade  of  the  tree  at  noon, 
When  the  harp-strings  of  nature  were  swept  to  play 

A  sweet  and  a  varied  tune, — 
When  the  streamlet  danced  quick  to  its  own  soft  note 

On  the  floor  of  the  slippery  stone, 
And  the  melody  gusi  t'd  from  the  wild  bird's  throat, 

And  the  breeze  had  a  pleasant  tone, 
Have  you  ne'er  from  the  distant,  clover-spread  lea, 

Heard  a  gradual  murmur  come, 
As  his  provident  caro  the  weariless  bee 

Enliven'd  with  musical  hum  ? 

XII. 

So  now,  borne  lightly  on  the  gale 
That  swept  along  Tioga's  vale 


THE    ANNOUNCEMENT.  15 

And  fann'd  yon  hillock's  brow, — 
The  mingled  questionings  that  rose 
Quick  following  this  announcement's  close, 

Came,  like  a  whisper,  low  : — 
And  she  whose  duties  kept  her  feet 
From  seeking  the  accustom'd  seat 

Within  the  house  of  prayer, — 
Sweet  Ellen,  tripping  towards  the  spring 
With  shining  pail,  pure  drink  to  bring 

To  cheer  the  mid-day  fare, — 
Caught  the  commingling  voices'  tone 

And  well  its  meaning  guess'd, 
For  Harvey  to  her  ear  alone 

The  secret  had  confess'd  ; — 
And  now,  whilst  through  the  eager  crowd 

Just  issuing  from  the  school, 
Inquiry  and  surmise  grew  loud 

Of  him  who  should  bear  rule, 
She, — conscious  that  she  knew  the  truth, 
That  the  new  teacher  was  a  youth 
On  the  wide  world  an  orphan  thrown 
To  meet  its  bufferings  alone, 


16  REDBUR]*. 


And  for  his  service  he  would  share 
In  turn  the  farmer's  homely  fare 

With  some  small  pay  beside, — 
Smiled,  as  a  calm  complacency 
Beam'd  sweetly  from  her  placid  eye, 
And  toss'd  her  head  unconsciously 
To  think  that  she  should  wed  so  high, 

And  be  th'  Inspector's  bride. 


THE  ARRIVAL 


-> 


CANTO    II. 


MAJESTIC,  glowing,  fiery  red, 
Fresh  from  his  azure -curtained  bed, 
Phoebus,  who  earth  with  gladness  fills, 
Rises  behind  Tioga's  hills, — 
Bathes  him  in  floating  mists  of  blue, 
Quaffs  a  great  draught  of  morning  dew, 
Looks  in  the  river  at  his  face, 
Then  mounts  aloft  with  towering  pace, 
And  at  each  stride  grows  hotter  in  the  race. 

ii. 

Gladsome  to  feel  his  first  warm  glance, 
The  half-clad  lambkins  frisk  and  dance, 
The  barn-yard  coxcomb  flaps  his  wings, 
And,  swelling  with  importance,  sings  ; 


20  REDBURX. 


The  approving  harem  strut  around, 
And,  gravely  cackling,  peck  the  ground, 
Whilst  some  nigh-swaggering  chanticleer, 
Chancing  his  rival-cock  to  hear, 
Hies  to  the  fence  -top,  fierce  and  proud, 
And  shrilly  shouts  defiance  loud. 

in. 

Catching  his  master's  whistle  near, 
The  hungry  steed  pricks  up  his  ear, 
And  snuffing  far  the  grateful  grain, 
Neighs  till  the  old  barn  rings  again  ;  — 
And  the  blithe  milk-maid  trips  along, 
Cheating  the  distance  with  her  song, 
Or,  switch'd  by  good  old  brindle's  tail, 
Presses  the  udder  o'er  the  pail. 

IV. 

Now  where  the  mellowing  morning  light 
Gilds  the  far  vision-bounding  height, 
The  approaching  stage-coach  heaves  in  sight. 
A  moment  on  the  hillock's  brow, 


THE    ARRIVAL.  21 


To  let  his  jaded  horses  blow, 
The  driver  rests — then  grasps  the  rein 
Full  tight,  ere  yet  he  start  again  : 
Now  cheerily  and  loud  he  cries, 
In  ringing  twirl  the  swift  whip  flies, 
Fierce,  foaming,  madden'd  by  the  lash, 
Down  the  smooth  steep  the  horses  dash — 
Urged  by  the  flying  wheels,  they  bound, 
And  all  the  pastures  quake  around  ! 


v. 

Trembling  with  fear,  the  little  lamb 
Nestles  beside  its  bleating  dam  ; — 
The  frisky  wethers  leave  their  play 
And  shoot  across  the  fields  away, 
Whilst  the  old  bucks,  with  solemn  stare, 
Wonder  what  silly  folk  go  there. 
Dashing  by  where  the  milk-maid  kneels, 
In  sudden  turn  the  stage-coach  wheels, 
Clatters  along  the  branching  lane 
That  feeds  the  goslings  of  the  plain, 
© ^ . 


22  REDBURN. 


Frights  every  straggling  calf  and  pig 
Into  a  strange  impromptu  jig, 
And  lures  from  far  with  bristling  tail, 
Each  snarling  mastiff  of  the  vale. 

VI. 

And  now  it  climbs  the  hill  again,  — 
Now  strive  the  steeds  with  sturdy  strain, 
The  traces  stiffen  out  like  steel, 
Hoarse  groans  the  hot  and  thirsty  wheel, 
The  driver,  listless,  leans  him  back, 
The  reins  hang  unemploy'd  and  slack, 
So  slow  its  weary  way  it  takes, 
The  coach  grows  yellow  from  the  dust  it  makes. 

VII. 

Lo  !  now  along  the  grass-fringed  way, 
Where  breakfast-seeking  cattle  stray, 
You  see  the  blue,  slow-curling  smoke, 
Caressing  soft  the  spreading  oak  — 
'T  is  there,  with  Pipkins  of  the  hill, 
Our  teacher  cancels  first  his  bill— 


THE    ARRIVAL.  23 


And  now,  as  the  ascent  is  past, 
The  noisy  coach  rolls  onward  fast, 
The  exalted  driver,  big  with  pride, 
Rises  erect,  and  from  his  side 
Draws  forth  a  venerable  horn, 
By  use,  of  shape  and  polish  shcrn, 
Drives  the  air  through  it  swift  and  strong, 
Till  the  far  hills  the  notes  prolong, 
And,  as  his  crimson  cheeks  inflate, 
Sweeps  up  before  John  Pipkin's  gate. 


VIII. 

The  magic  of  that  trumpet  bias*: 

Was  wonderful,  I  ween  ; — 
For  scarcely  were  its  echoes  past, 
Than  to  the  window  crowding  fist, 

Big,  yellow  heads  were  seen  : — 
Great  boys  and  girls,  with  tang  ed  locks, 
And  imps,  with  visages  and  frooks 
Of  the  same  pattern  all — whose  sex 
The  best  discernment  would  perplex, 


24  REDBURIf. 


All  forward  press'd,  agog  to  see 
What  sort  of  teacher  it  might  be  ; — 
And  when,  as  stopp'd  the  coach,  a  bound 
Brought  the  schoolmaster  to  the  ground, 
A  murmur  of  surprise  went  round. 
'T  was  no  old  wretch,  whose  sullen  looks 
Told  but  of  punishment  and  books, — 
But  a  fair  youth,  whose  eye  of  blue 
The  light  of  anger  never  knew. 
And  now,  as  Pipkins,  with  rude  grace, 
Welcomed  the  stranger  to  the  place, 
The  swains  and  children,  half  amazed, 
Still  gaping,  through  the  window  gazed, 
Whilst  the  fair  maids  a  passing  view, 
In  the  clock-door's  bright  surface  threw, 
And  with  prim  smiles  upon  their  faces, 
Around  the  chimney  took  their  places. 


IX. 

Soon  now,  invited  by  the  sire, 

Young  Redburn  warm'd  him  by  the  fire, 


THE    ARRIVAL.  25 


Where  the  great  bubbling  pot  steam'd  fast 
With  incense  from  the  morn's  repast  ; 
And  the  soft,  dimpled,  white-cheek'd  cake 
Hite  and  consistency  did  take— 
Nor  was  -it  long  ere  Pipkins  led 
The  way  to  where  the  meal  was  spread  — 
There  —  mighty  stimulant  to  work- 
Smoked  the  fat,  favourite  mess  of  pork, 
All  reeking  with  the  fragrant  smell 
The  rustic  nostril  loves  so  well  ; 
And  there  full  many  a  dainty  dish 
Might  satisfy  the  choicest  wish,-^- 
Whilst  high,  presiding  o'er  the  whole, 
Tower'd  a  generous-looking  bowl, 
Brimming  with  apple's  luscious  sauce, 
From  which  each  rustic  help'd  in  course, 
Hurrying  his  cup-spoon  forth  and  back, 
Telling  his  joy  with  sounding  smack. 


I  've  heard  them  tell  of  a  way  of  yore, 
When  Dutchmen  sat  at  meat, 


26  REDBURN. 


How  there  hung  by  a  cord  their  noses  before 

A  mammoth  loaf  of  wheat ; 
And  anon  each  man,  with  gesture  gruff, 

Would  clutch  the  dangling  bread, 
And  when  he  had  gnawed  its  surface  enough, 

Let  it  swing  at  his  neighbour's  head  : — 
Now  these  old  worthies  were  bless'd  with  a  choice, 

To  eat  from  a  nibbled  spot, 
Or,  if  their  palates  were  over-nice, 

Where  tooth  had  enter'd  not ; — 
But  't  is  not  so  with  the  mingling  mass 

Inviting  each  spoon  to  the  bowl, 
The  ladle  polluting  one  part  of  the  sauce, 

Throws  a  shadow  of  doubt  o'er  the  whole. 

XI. 

Soon  as  the  morning  meal  was  o'er. 
Our  hero  left  old  Pipkin's  door. 
The  sunny  air  had  grown  more  mild, 
In  gay  apparel  nature  smiled, 
And  with  full  many  a  happy  voice, 
From  hill  and  valley  did  rejoice. 


THE    ARRIVAL.  27 


The  brook  did  brawl  in  foamy  fall 

Adown  the  bright  cascade, 
Or  rippled  along  with  a  gurgling  song, 

As  the  spray  and  sunlight  played  ; 
The  pleasant  South  did  ope  her  mouth 

And  murmuringly  blow, 
And  to  the  trees  the  swelling  breeze 

Whisper'd  with  music  low. 

XII. 

Descending  now  the  hillock's  side, 
The  gorgeous  prospect  spreading  wide, 
And  glowing  in  the  morning  light, 
Show'd  to  the  eye  a  goodly  sight  : 
The  sloping  sward  where  Redburn  stood, 
RolFd  smoothly  down  for  many  a  rood, 
And  with  the  vale  so  gently  blended, 
You  scarce  might  mark  the  spot  it  ended  ; 
There,  close  beside  the  yellow  road, 
Coursed  the  clear  river,  bright  and  broad, 
Gladding  the  green  and  laughing  bank 
Where  the  tall  bending  grass  grew  rank,  — 

m 


28 


Whilst  far  upon  the  other  side, 
Stretch'd  a  great  plain  in  verdant  pride, 
From  whose  fair  bosom  quick  arose 
A  steep  where  close  the  forest  grows  ; 
So  near  one  tree-top  to  the  other, 
Each  elm  seem'd  whispering  to  its  brother, 
And  though  a  thousand  tufts  were  mingled, 
One  from  the  rest  could  not  be  singled — 
Such  dainty  drapery  Nature  weaves, 
A  mountain  side  of  little  leaves  ! 


XIII. 

Seem'd  it  as  though  a  carpet-bale 

Had  tumbled  out  of  Heaven, 
Roll'd  down  the  hill  in  opening  trail, 
And  spread  its  huge  bulk  o'er  the  vale, 

All  smoothly  laid  and  even  ; 
The  white  sheep  on  its  surface  strewn, 
Seemed  tufts  within  the  texture  sewn, 
And  bush,  and  flower,  and  tree-stump  gray, 
Were  mellow'd  into  figures  gay, 


THE    ARRIVAL.  29 


Enliven'd  by  the  streamlet's  play 
That  towards  the  river  took  its  way  ; — 
A  thousand  tints  on  ground  of  green — 
More  gorgeous  carpet  ne'er  was  seen. 


XIV. 

As  down  the  vale  the  eye  would  range, 
'T  was  beauteous  still,  but  grandly  strange, 
To  mark  the  scenery's  wondrous  change — 
Tall  pines  stood  on  the  mountain-side, 
Bristling  like  warriors  in  their  pride, 
And  stretch'd  their  arms  in  high  disdain, 
Tow'ring  all  proudly  o'er  the  plain  ; 
There,  like  a  slaughter'd  army  lay, 
Scathed  trunks  and  limbs  in  wild  array, 
All  scorched  and  grimly  black  with  smoke, 
And  cleft  as  if  by  battle -stroke  ; — 
And  ever,  as  the  winds  would  blow, 
The  pines  looked  scornfully  below, 
Like  victors  o'er  a  conquer'd  foe, 
And,  jeering,  laughed,  "  So  ho  !  so  ho  !  " 


30  REDBURN. 


XV. 

As  Redburn  gazed,  the  fence-bound  road 
Far  in  the  distance  clouded,  show'd 
What,  as  more  rapidly  it  near'd, 
A  gay  and  saddled  steed  appear'd — 
Graceful  he  seem'd,  well-form'd  and  slim, 
With  arching  neck  and  sinewy  limb, 
And  toss'd  his  pretty  head  on  high, 
Touching  the  ground  disdainfully. 
Proud  he  might  well  be,  for  he  bare 
A  rider,  wondrous,  passing  fair ; — 
Upon  her  head  a  tassell'd  cap, 
Held  by  a  narrow  silver  strap, 
Her  swelling  bust  with  velvet  bound, 
That,  close  and  loving,  went  around 
And  'neath  her  feet,  neglected,  flowing 
The  blue  skirt  in  the  light  wind  blowing — 
Deck'd  in  such  sweet  simplicity 
No  more  adornment  needed  she. 


THE    ARRIVAL.  31 


XVI. 

Lovely,  indeed,  was  Clara  Ray, 
Worthy  than  mine  far  nobler  lay. 
Light  was  her  form — as  made  for  air — 
Braided  with  sunshine  seem'd  her  hair, 
The  circle  of  her  soft,  gray  eye, 
Floated  in  liquid  brilliancy  ; 
The  dewy  sweetness  of  her  lip, 
Nectar-drinking  gods  might  sip, 
And  the  rich  flush  upon  her  cheek, 
Kiss'd  by  the  winds  in  amorous  freak, 
Glow'd  with  a  tempting  hue  so  warm, 
But,  that  it  madden'd,  it  might  charm ; 

XVII. 

Gay  flowers  she  held  in  one  fair  hand, 

Using  the  other  for  command  ; 

And  whilst  as,  with  the  fresh  breeze  playing, 

A  bright  curl  o'er  her  cheek  came  straying, 

She  raised  the  nosegay  to  her  face 

To  brush  the  ringlet  to  its  place, — 


32  BED BURN. 

The  motion,  as  they  flirted  by, 
Caught  the  high-mettled  steed's  quick  eye — 
He  stretch 'd  his  nostril,  raised  his  ear^ 
.  And  started  as  in  sudden  fear. 
"  So,  sir  !  "  she  cried  in  sportive  mood, 
"  Gently,  young  beast  of  gentle  blood, 
"  Nay,  do  my  flowers  affright  you  so  ? 
"  Snuff  them,  good  Ruby,— what !     So  ho  !  " 
She  dropp'd  the  nosegay  from  her  clasp, 
She  seized  the  rein  with  stronger  grasp — 
The  horse,  affrighted,  snorted  loud  — 
He  reard  aloft  in  posture  proud — 
Fair  rider  !  all  thy  skill  and  power 
Are  needed  in  such  dangerous  hour  t 
She  staggers  on  the  heaving  seat, 
A  moment,  and  beneath  his  feet 
Her  form  like  stubble  had  been  crush'd, 
When  down  the  hill-side  Redburn  rush'd — 
She  falls  ! — but  safe — the  danger's  past, 
A  strong  arm  holds  the  bridle  fast, 
Another  round  her  waist  is  cast. 


THE    ARRIVAL.  33 


XVIII. 

He  lay  her,  swooning,  on  the  ground,  — 

Fast  to  a  tree  the  horse  he  bound  ; 

Then  watch'd  her  pale  and  lovely  brow, 

Till  came  again  the  blood's  warm  glow  — 

Her  eyes  unclosed,  then,  as  in  fear 

She  gazed  around,  but  seeing  near 

The  panting  steed,  she  faintly  smiled, 

And  spoke  in  accents  sweet  and  mild  : 

"  My  foolishness,"  she  said,  "  I  fear, 

"  Brave  youth,  had  like  to  cost  you  dear  5 

"  Ruby,  I  thought,  was  kind,  though  young  — 

"  Great  Heaven  !  "  she  cried,  and  quickly  sprung 

Strong  and  recover'd  from  the  ground, 

"Young  sir,  you  have  received  a  wound  !" 


'T  was  true,  indeed,  and  from  his  knee 
The  warm  blood  trickled  fast  and  free- 
He  bent  himself,  and  slowly  'round 
The  bleeding  limb  his  kerchief  bound— 

2* 


34  REDBURISr. 


And  though  his  cheek  his  lips  belied, 

"  Fair  maid,  't  is  naught,"  he  gayly  cried, 

"  Be  not  disturbed  for  me,  I  pray, 

"  I  have  to  go  but  little  way, 

"  Where  o'er  yon  hill  the  children  play." 


xx. 

The  girl,  with  sweet  and  pitying  look 
Regarded  him,  then  slowly  took 
Her  way  to  where  her  young  horse  stood 
Here  waited  she  in  pensive  mood 
A  moment,  then,  from  off  a  mound 
Sprang  to  her  seat  with  gentle  bound, 
Shook  back  her  thickly  clustering  hair, 
Bade  Redburn  nurse  himself  with  care, 
Spoke  an  adieu  in  hurried  tone, 
Turn'd,  drew  the  bridle,  and  was  gone. 


THE  SCHOOL 


CANT  O    III. 


ROUND  the  house  in  merry  whirl 

Sport  the  happy  troop, 
Chased  and  chasing,  boy  and  girl, 

With  laugh  and  ringing  whoop-— 
The  homely  hood  is  laid  aside 

And  the  tresses  wildly  flow, 
And  quickly  runs  the  blood's  warm  tide, 

And  bright  the  faces  glow. 
Cheerly,  cheerly,  almost  caught ! 

Stout  heart  may  never  miss, 
A  bound,  the  toil  was  not  for  naught, 

The  race  hath  gain'd  a  kiss  I 
Now  they  form  in  solid  ring 

Round  the  hat-piled  heap, 
With  uncertain  sway  they  swing, 

And  with  caution  leap. 


38  REDBURN. 


But  the  flowing  train  of  a  sprightly  maid 

Hath  made  the  pillar  trip, 
And  the  price  of  her  carelessness  is  paid 

On  many  a  laughing  lip. 

il. 

And  now  hurrah  !  for  the  speeding  ball 

Is  flung  in  the  viewless  air, 
And  where  it  will  strike  in  its  rapid  fall 

The  boys  are  hastening  there — 
And  the  parted  lip  and  the  eager  eye 

Are  following  its  descent, 
Whilst  the  baffled  stumbler's  falling  cry 

With  th'  exulting  shout  is  blent. 
The  leader  now  of  either  band 

Picks  cautiously  his  men, 
And  the  quickest  foot  and  the  roughest  hand 

Are  what  he  chooses  then. 
And  see  !  the  ball,  with  swift  rebound, 

Flies  from  the  swinging  bat, 
While  the  player  spurns  the  beaten  ground, 

Nor  heeds  his  wind-caught  hat. 


THE    SCHOOL.  39 


But  the  ball  is  stopp'd  in  its  quick  career, 

And  is  sent  with  a  well-aim'd  fling, 
And  he  dodges  to  feel  it  whistling  near, 

Or  leaps  at  its  sudden  sting, 
Whilst  the  shot  is  hail'd  with  a  hearty  shout, 

As  the  wounded  one  stops  short, 
For  his  '  side  '  by  the  luckless  blow  is  out  — 

And  the  others  wait  their  sport. 

HI. 
Now  in  the  school,  whose  warm-lipp'd  fire 

Kiss'd  the  chill  morning  air, 
Pretty  —  despite  their  prim  attire  — 

Gossipp'd  the  damsels  fair  ; 
Clad  in  high  shoe  and  woollen  sock, 

Whose  office  't  was  to  warm  ; 
And  hiding  'neath  the  homespun  frock 

No  artificial  form— 
Some  through  the  cloth  with  fingers  quick 

The  nimble  needle  drove, 
And  others  with  continual  click 

The  seamless  stocking  wove  ; 


40 


REDBURN. 


Some  criticised  the  latest  styles 

Of  hoods  and  calicoes, 
And  others,  with  bewitching  smiles, 

Talked  with  the  sturdy  beaux, — 
Telling  whate'er  they  chanced  to  know 

Of  like,  or  jealousy, 
Nor  letting  false,  coquettish  show, 

Give  to  their  hearts  the  lie. 

IV. 

I  've  seen  where  Fashion's  stately  hall 
Was  glittering  with  the  festival, 
Where  jewels,  Tivall'd  by  the  eye 
Of  beauty,  sparkled  brilliantly, 
Where  feet  sprung  at  the  viol's  sound, 
And  smile  and  compliment  went  round, 
But  where  false  custom's  chilling  form 

Suppress'd  the  language  bold, 
And  though  the  yearning  heart  were  warm, 

The  manner  must  be  cold  ; 
I  've  seen  the  glance  whose  witching  power 

Was  strong  as  music's  spell — 


THE    SCHOOL.  41 


I  've  seen  that  hinted  by  the  flower. 

The  lip  scarce  dared  to  tell ; 
And  I  've  watch'd  the  silent  eye's  complaint, 

As  it  rested  on  the  token, 
That  the  heart  must  keep  with  forced  restraint, 

Words  that  might  not  be  spoken  ;^ 
And  I  've  turn'd  away  from  scenes  like  this 

To  the  farm  and  the  country  cheer, 
And  have  laugh'd  right  loud  at  the  hearty  kiss 

And  the  ringing  box  of  the  ear — 
And  have  wish'd  man's  heart  had  ne'er  more  guile 

Than  of  what  the  hind  might  tell, 
And  that  woman  wore  always  as  true  a  smile 

As  that  of  the  rustic  belle. 

v. 

Now  grew  the  hearth-surrounding  train, 
Lengthen'd  by  urchin,  maid  and  swain, 

All  radiant  with  health  ; 
And  as  they  chatted  round  the  blaze, 
Burst  with  its  warmth  the  leaping  maize, 

And  show'd  its  pulpy  wealth  ; 


42  REDBURN. 


The  bloated  apple's  heated  tide 

Hiss'd  white  and  simmering  from  its  side, 

And  on  the  floor  confusedly  strown 

Lay  curved,  fantastic  parings,  thrown 

Over  the  head,  with  magic  art, 

To  tell  the  leaning  of  the  heart ; 

Whilst  shrewdly  was  the  number  guess'd 

Of  the  black  seeds  in  hand  compress'd  ; 

And  gayly  many  a  sylvan  game 

Went  on  before  that  cheerful  flame. 

VI. 

O,  how  I  love  the  mellow  Fall, 

Whose  bracing,  frost-tipp'd  days 
Bid  young  and  aged,  one  and  all, 

Meet  round  the  crackling  blaze  : — 
'T  is  the  prime  of  the  year  ere  his  locks  grow  sere, 

Or  his  powers  begin  to  fail, 
And  he  shows  his  strength  by  the  mighty  length 

Of  his  rich  and  fruitful  trail ; 
Then  with  the  generous  harvest's  store 

The  barns  o'eiioaded  groan, 


THE    SCHOOL.  43 


And  all  across  the  orchard's  floor 
The  golden  wealth  is  strown, — 

And  the  laughter  loud  from  the  rustic  crowd 
Full  well  the  time  doth  suit, 

As  the  husk  is  shorn  of  the  yellow  corn, 
And  the  sharp  knife  cuts  the  fruit. 

VII. 

The  stooping  hinds  with  sinews  lithe 

Sweep  the  sharp  weapon  round, 
And  yielding  to  the  cradled  scythe, 

The  buckwheat  lines  the  ground  ; 
Then  they  pile  the  wain  till  the  horses  strain 

Each  nerve  to  drag  the  load, 
And  they  loiter  along  with  laugh  and  song 

To  the  barn  beside  the  road — 

VIII. 

Laughing  as  many  a  tale  is  told 

Of  gay  life  down  the  stream, 
When,  battling  with  the  waters  bold, 

The  raftman's  oar  would  gleam, — 


44  REDBURN. 


When,  as  old  Earth  put  on  her  cap 

Of  darkness  for  the  night, 
They  nestled  in  the  still  bay's  lap, 

Waiting  the  morning  light, 
And  ere  sweet  sleep  refresh'd  their  powers, 

Roam'd  to  the  hill-side  glades, 
To  wile  away  the  evening  hours 

With  merry,  bright-eyed  maids  ; — 
And  singing  haply  now  an  air 

That  cheer'd  their  bosoms  then, 
Or  love -song  wild  that  rustic  fair 

Might  hear  in  lonely  glen  ; 
And  now  perchance  some  simple  lay, 

Telling  of  woodland  bliss  ; 
And  now  in  numbers  rude  but  gay, 

A  homely  air  like  this  : — 

IX. 
THE    DRINKING    SONG    OF    THE    RUSTIC. 

Ho  !  pour  the  liquid  high 

Till  it  kiss  the  goblet's  brink, — 


THE    SCHOOL.  45 


Pure  and  bright  as  woman's  eye — 

Drink — cheerly  drink  ! 
The  hot -spiced  wine  from  the  southern  vine 

Burneth  the  reason  up, 
And  the  sensual  sip  of  the  liquorish  lip 
Toys  with  a  deadly  cup  : 
Grass  and  flowers 
Drink  the  showers, 
Birds  dip  from  the  spring, — 
In  full  measure, 
Sparkling  treasure, 
Pearly  water  bring  ! 
Ho  !  pour  the  liquid  high, 

Till  it  kiss  the  goblet's  brink, 
Pure  and  bright  as  woman's  eye, 
Drink — cheerly  drink  ! 

x. 

And  now,  as  with  slow  step,  and  lame, 

Redburn  pursued  his  way, 
Mingled  with  notes  like  these  there  came 

The  sounds  of  boyish  play, — 
0 © 


46  REDBURN. 


Soften'd,  ere  yet  they  reach'd  his   ear, 

By  the  slight  hill  between, 
Yet  telling  that  the  school  lay  near, 

Long  ere  its  smoke  was  seen. 
Then  first  the  chimney  came  in  view, 
The  slant  roof  where  green  moss-tufts  grew, 

Then  the  gray,  shingled  wall  — 
Till,  as  he  reach'd  the  overlooking  height, 
Full  plain  he  caught  the  pleasant  sight, 

And  heard  the  merry  call. 

XI. 

Nor,  as  he  reach'd  that  height,  I  ween, 
Was  the  schoolmaster's  self  unseen  : 
Many  an  urchin  left  his  sport, 
Many  a  love  -tale  was  cut  short  ; 
And  as  when,  at  the  dead  of  night, 
Men  arm  them  sudden  for  the  fight, 

Roused  by  the  roll  of  drums,  — 
So  now  each  quiet  breast  was  stirr'd 
And  through  the  startled  school  was  heard 
The  brush  of  feet  —  the  warning  word, 

"  The  new  schoolmaster  comes  !  " 


THE    SCHOOL.  47 


And  like  those  men  in  order  forra'd, 
Firm,  strong,  by  desperation  warm'd, 

And  yet  like  statues  still. 
So  now  with  eyebrows  tightly  knit, 
And  lips  compress'd  as  in  a  fit, 
Most  sternly  did  the  scholars  sit 

As  he  came  down  the  hill. 


XII. 

Yet,  in  good  sooth,  they  did  relax, 
And  pliant  did  the  muscles  wax 

About  the  firm-set  mouth, 
As  prying  urchins  looked  askance, 
And  maidens  cast  a  furtive  glance 

Upon  the  entering  youth, 
To  see  how  little  need  might  be 
To  stand  in  awe  of  such  as  he. 
The  damsels,  smiling,  thought  the  swain 
Well  might  adorn  the  suitor  train, 
And  lightly  laugh'd  at  punishment 
When  beau  and  pedagogue  were  blent ; — 


48  REDBURN. 


And  the  glad  urchins,  with  sly  wink, 
Cuii'd  a  contemptuous  lip  to  think 
How  much  a  teacher  should  be  fear'd 
Whose  chin  scarce  darken'd  with  a  beard. 

XIII. 

Now  't  was  indeed  a  weary  task 

For  one  so  sick  and  weak, 
The  question  of  the  dolt  to  ask 

And  the  rough  word  to  speak  ; — 
And  when  the  distant  cock  with  joy 

Told  the  glad  hour  of  noon, 
As  little  as  the  restless  boy 

Thought  he,  it  came  too  soon  ; 
But  from  the  schoolroom's  fetid  air, 

And  noise,  he  gladly  stroll'd, 
Seeking  the  sheep-nipt  meadow  where 

The  gurgling  streamlet  roll'd  ; — 
And  here  upon  the  soft,  green  grass 

Haply  to  ease  his  pain, 
He  waited  till  the  hour  should  pass 

And  school  begin  again. 


^> 


THE  DENOUEMENT, 


CANTO    IV. 


WOULD  you  know  why  the  rivulet  ripples  along, 

In  the  centre  so  brawling  and  fast, — 
While  the  stream  at  the  side  is  not  rapid  or  strong, 

And  the  water  seems  loth  to  go  past  ? 
Oh !  the  brook  at  the  edge  has  the  green  bank  to 
kiss, 

As  it  laughs  in  the  field-flower's  eye, 
But  the  desolate  channel  enjoys  no  such  bliss, 

And  so  dashes  all  jealously  by. 


n. 

Now,  stretch 'd  upon  the  grassy  bank, 
Redburn's  ear  the  music  drank 


52  REDBURN. 


Of  brooklet  at  his  feet, — 

And  as  the  gentle  murmur  crept 

Soothing,  across  his  sense,  he  slept 

With  slumber  light  but  sweet. 

He  dream'd, — and  thoughts  of  other  days 

Came  o'er  his  soul  like  sunny  rays. 

Now  sat  he  by  the  cheerful  hearth, 

The  frequent  scene  of  quiet  mirth, 

Where  happy  faces  shone  more  bright, 

Reflecting  one  another's  light ; 

And  the  free-hearted  laugh  gave  zest 

To  dullest  tale  and  poorest  jest, — 

Now  wander'd  through  the  pleasant  glade, 

Where  oft  in  childhood  he  had  stray'd, 

Watching  the  birds,  or  culling  flowers, 

Unconscious  of  the  passing  hours, 

Or  chased  the  mottled  butterfly, 

Whose  hues  he  mark'd  with  wondering  eye, — 

And  now  amid  the  glittering  throng 

He  stood,  where  rose  the  joyous  song, 

Where  bright  eyes  gave  back  glance  for  glance, 

And  light  feet  twinkled  in  the  dance, 


THE    DENOUEMENT.  53 

Till  revelry  consumed  the  night, 

And  mixed  its  glare  with  morning  light. 


in. 

And  now  his  vision  seem'd  to  change, 
And  all  was  beautifully  strange. 
Far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  was  spread 
A  vale,  fit  for  the  fairies'  tread  ; 
Upon  its  arbours  grew  such  fruit 
The  fairies'  dainty  taste  might  suit, 
And  every  leaf  and  every  flower 
Might  deck  a  fairy's  nuptial  bower. 
Through  the  bright  valley  flow'd  a  stream, 
Where,  'twixt  the  trees,  the  sun  would  gleam 
And  kiss  the  wave  in  laughing  play, 
Though  jealous  leaves  would  often  stray 
To  keep  him  from  the  foam  away. — 
And  now,  whilst  sportive  fishes  leap'd 
Up  from  the  sparkling  brim,  and  peep'd, 
Perchance  to  catch  a  moment's  sight 
Of  tree  and  flower  so  green  and  bright, 


* 

54  KEDBURN. 

The  dreamer,  gladden'd  with  the  view, 
Near  the  clear  stream  and  nearer  drew. 
He  gain'd  a  soft  grass-cushion'd  seat, 
For  weary  fay  to  slumber,  meet, 
And  sat  him  down  as  in  a  trance, — 
Drunk  with  the  gladness  of  a  glance  ! 

IV. 

Quick  now,  and  oftener  arose 

The  fishes  to  the  brim, 
And  every  time,  with  jeering  nose, 

They  pointed  straight  at  him. 
They  seem'd  the  surface  to  attain 

To  take  a  passing  view, 
Then,  sportingly,  dove  down  again, 
And  others,  in  their  sparkling  train, 

Up  to  the  top  they  drew. 
Then,  when  their  ever-growing  force 

Seem'd  full  a  thousand  strong, 
Straight  to  the  shore  they  took  their  course, 

An  army,  broad  and  long  ! 
And  as  they  came  in  such  array, 


THE  DENOUEMENT.  5o 

And  shook  their  shiny  fin, 
Their  tails  seem'd  in  a  constant  play. 

Their  faces  on  a  grin. 
Now,  horrors  !  how  their  bodies  grow, 

How  fierce  their  rolling  eyes ! 
And,  as  the  yielding  wave  they  plow, 

How  the  big  billows  rise  1 
They  gain  the  bank,  they  swiftly  spring 

Upon  the  soft,  green  sward, 
And,  as  they  land,  their  shouts'  loud  ring 

From  shore  to  shore  is  heard  1 
Round  him,  in  circle  firm  and  strong 

With  measured  tramp  they  close, 
They  drag  Mm  on  the  grass  along, 

They  pluck  him  by  the  nose  ! 
And  as  they  dance  about  him  now 

Or  clutch  him  by  the  hair, 
More  human-like  their  features  grow, 
And  their  young,  grinning  faces  show 

The  children  of  his  care  ! 


56  KEDBURIT. 


V. 

He  shouted  out — so  sore  beset — 

He  strove  their  forms  to  clasp, 
Their  slimy  shapes  were  fishes  yet— 
They  glided  through  his  grasp  t 
In  agony  he  roll'd  around, 

As  with  a  writhing  eramp, 
When  suddenly  he  caught  the  sound- 

Of  coming  horse's  tramp. 
The  little  wretches  heard  it  too, 

One  farewell  pinch  they  gave, 
And  then,  with  devilish  halloo, 

They  plunged  into  the  wave* 
The  steed  came  on  with  thundering  sound, 

With  flowing  tail  and  mane, 
Reach'd  the  young  dreamer  at  a  bound, 

Then  yielded  to  the  rein. 
Now,  soothingly  a  bright  eye  beam'd; 

A  fair  form  o'er  him  bent, 
Till,  to  a  shape  of  earth,  it  seem'd 

Was  angel's  sweetness  lent. 


THE  DENOUEMENT.  57 


VI. 

'T  was  but  a  moment — and  again 
Came  the  deep,  agonizing  pain. 
The  burning  current  madly  flew 
Like  wild-fire  through  each  vein, 
And,  as  more  fierce  the  fever  grew, 
Devils  and  imps,  a  hellish  crew, 

Seem'd  dancing  in  his  brain.   . 
They  kept  their  revels  till  his  head, 

Swelling,  seem'd  fit  to  burst, 
And  down  his  throat  pour'd  molten  lead, 

Scorching  his  tongue  with  thirst. 
Yet  ever  through  such  dismal  dream 

As  such  dark  forms  would  whirl, 
There  flitted,  like  a  transient  gleam, 

That  sweet  and  lovely  girl. 

VII. 

Raged  the  fierce  fever  hot  and  long, 
But  the  young  frame  is  often  strong ; — 

3* 


58  JtEDBURN. 


Two  days  had  gone,  the  third  had  broke 
Since  first  he  slumber'd  ere  he  woke. 
Then,  round,  and  still  around  he  gazed, 
And  more  he  look'd,  seem'd  more  amazed. 
'  T  was  wondrous  all ; — had  magic  power 
Transported  him  at  midnight  hour 
To  some  delightful  elfine  bower  ] 
And  lo !  the  self-same  maiden  form 
With  tempting  qheek  of  colour  warm, 
She  of  the  sparkling,  clear  gray  eye 
That,  sweetly  pensive,  stood  so  nigh. 
And  where  was  he — and  by  whose  care 
Had  he  been  brought  and  tended  there  1 

VIII. 

Upon  a  downy  couch  he  lay, 
Where  the  warm  zephyr's  gentle  play 
In  the  half-open  lattice  stealing, 
Came  to  him  with  delicious  feeling, — 
Whilst  through  the  dimly-lighted  room 
Floated  the  rich  and  rare  perfume, 
Of  hyacinths  in  odorous  bloom. 


THE  DENOUEMENT.  59 

The  maid  lean'd,  thoughtful,  on  her  hand, 

Dimpled,  and  white  and  small, 
And  tresses,  free  from  comb  or  band, 

O'er  her  pure  neck  did  fall. 
As  thus  she  stood  in  silent  mood, 

The  door,  with  noiseless  stir, 
Open'd,  and  through  the  passage,  came 
A  female,  betwixt  girl  and  dame, 

Who  softly  call'd  to  her. 
Now,  quickly  did  the  maiden  turn, 

And  on  her  pretty  lip, 
With  anxious  look  of  deep  concern, 

Placed  her  fair  finger's  tip. 
Slowly,  the  female  came  more  near, 

And  in  a  whisper  spake 
So  low,  that  though  the  girl  might  hear, 

The  sleeper  would  not  wake. 
As  she  went  on,  a  passing  frown 

The  damsel's  face  did  shroud, 
As,  o'er  the  moon,  at  night's  high  noon, 

Passeth  the  flitting  cloud. 


60 


REDBURKf. 


Then,  quietly,  with  hurried  air, 
She  left  him  to  the  other's  care,- 

IX. 

She,  with  so  soft  and  gentle  treat^ 

The  carpet  seem'd  a  downy  bed* 

Noiselessly  yielding  to  her  feet, 

Close  by  the  lattice  took  her  seat.- 

By  the  well-fitting,  spotless  cap, 

By  the  trim  apron  o'er  her  lap^ 

By  the  complacent,  placid  grace 

Upon  her  round  and  comely  face  — 

Unchanged,  grow  patient  well  or  worsev 

She  was  the  never-  weary  nurse* 

She  sat  a&  quietly  as  deathr 

Scarce  seeming  e'en  to  draw  a  breath. 

No  sound  was  heard  ;  —  such  silence  reign'd 

As  from  its  very  stillness  pain'd, 

When  suddenly,  like  cannon's  roar, 

Swung  on  its  hinge  the  great  hall  door. 

Up  rose  the  nurse  with  quick  exclaim, 

Then  sat  again,  and  as  in  shame 


THE    DENOUEMENT.  61 

Look'd  slow  and  timidly  around, — 

No — Redburn  had  not  heard  the  sound — 

So  still — he  surely  was  asleep, 

And  she,  with  stealthy,  cautious  peep, 

Thro'  the  closed  lattice  gazing  down, 

Saw,  striding  forth,  with  bitter  frown, 

And  ruffled  and  perturbed  mien, 

As  from  some  anger- moving  scene, 

One  whose  success  full  well  she  knew— - 

'Twas  Clara's  cousin,  young  Bellue. 


Clara,  an  orphan,  young  and  poor, 
Was  welcom'd  to  her  uncle's  door. 
Nursed,  with  her  every  want  supplied, 
Rear'd,  with  no  luxury  denied, 
The  good  old  man,  ere  yet  he  died, 
Charged  her  to  wed  his  sister's  son, 
And  join  such  kindred  streams  in  one. 
This  was  his  will's  express  command, 
That  should  the  maiden  give  her  hand 


62  REDBURN. 


To  young  Bellue,  then,  house  and  land 

Were  fitly  holden  by  such  band. 

But,  should  the  girl,  perverse,  deny 

The  wished-for  marriage  knot  to  tie, 

Nor  yield  consent  by  fixed  day, 

Then,  house  and  land  he  gave  away 

To  a  poor  orphan  youth — the  son, 

So  gossip  Rumour  said,  of  one 

Whose  witching  charms,  ere  while,  did  move 

That  old  man's  heart  to  dreams  of  love. 

XI. 

All  men  have  loved — some  with  a  fire 
As  fervid  as  the  burning  ire 
Of  that  which  sweeps  the  prairie's  breast, 
But,  like  its  fury,  soon  at  rest ; 
And  others,  with  a.  milder  flame, 
Yet  ever  is  its  warmth  the  same. 
L'Ornay  with  such  a  passion  burn'd, 
And,  though  his  love  was  unreturn'd, 
And  the  fair  prize  another  won, — 
Still,  when  all  hope  for  love  was  gone, 


THE  DENOUEMENT.  63 

Hopeless,  he  still  kept  loving  on. 

He  wander'd  from  the  haunts  of  men, — 

He  found  a  sweet  secluded  glen, 

And  there  he  lived, — the  morning  shone, 

And  L'Ornay  welcomed  it  alone  ; 

At  even,  when  the  moon  rode  high, 

He  gazed,  no  other  being  nigh, — 

And  thus,  still  nourishing  the  flame, 

He  lived  till  gentle  Clara  came. 

XII. 

She  wound  around  his  lonely  heart 

Like  ivy  round  the  oak, 
And  soothed,  with  tender  care,  its  smart, 

And  accents  sweetly  spoke  ; 
But  yet,  although  her  kindliness 

Beguiled  the  dreary  hour, 
O'er  his  dejected  soul  no  less 

Grew  the  strong  passion's  power. 
He  thought  of  her  he  loved  till  death, — 
And  ere  he  drew  his  parting  breath, 
Unto  her  offspring  did  bequeath — 


64  REDBURN. 


Should  his  fair  niece  not  wed  Bellue — 
All  that  had  been  that  niece's  due. 

XIII. 

Such  was  the  tale  the  good  nurse  told, 
When  Redburn's  questions  made  her  bold. 
She  told  him,  too,  that  as  he  lay 

Asleep,  beside  the  stream, 
His  scholar-imps,  in  roaring  play, 

With  laugh,  and  dance,  and  scream 
Had  gather'd  round  him  sportingly, 

And  many  a  cruel  prank 
Had  play'd,.till  Clara's  train  drew  nigh 

And  drove  them  from  the  bank  ;-— 
And  that  each  hour  in  every  day, 
As  restless  on  his  couch  he  lay, 

With  ever-wandering  brain, 
The  gentle  maiden  would  be  nigh, 
Watching  with  deep  anxiety, 

If  she  might  ease  his  pain. 


THE    DENOUEMENT.  65 


XIV. 

But  when  that  damsel's  own  sweet  voice 

Fell,  silvery,  on  his  ear, 
And  her  full,  bright  eye  did  rejoice, 

Swimming  with  happy  tear, 
Oh,  how  his  pleasure,  undissembled, 

Gave  to  his  cheek  employ, 
Whilst  yet  his  heart,  enraptured,  trembled, 

For  fear  it  dreamt  such  joy. 

xv. 

One  day,  to  try  his  growing  strength, 
They  walk'd  along  the  great  hall's  length, 
That  ended,  where  the  sunny  ray 
Made  leaf,  and  bud,  and  blossom  gay  ; 
Where  many  a  rare  and  foreign  flower 
Flourish'd  as  in  its  native  bower, 
And  fragrance  rich  and  colour  bright 
Oppress'd  the  senses  with  delight : 
Here,  tempting,  hung,  inviting  reach, 
The  clust'ring  grape  and  luscious  peach — 
$ , 


66  REDBURN. 


And  fruits,  that  scorn  our  northern  air, 
Grew  willing,  'neath  unwonted  care. 
Here  floated,  too,  the  warbling  song — 
Trill'd  sweetly  from  the  tiny  tongue — 
And  lost  itself  the  leaves  among. 
No  wonder  here  they  linger'd  long, 
Still  lengthening  out  their  pleasant  stay, 
And  turn'd,  reluctantly,  away. 


XVI. 

Retiring  through  the  corridor, 

They  came  upon  a  quaint  old  door 

Leading  into  a  great,  broad  room, 

That  seem'd  the  hiding  place  of  gloom  : 

'T  was  here,  in  sad  or  studious  mood, 

L'Ornay  had  courted  solitude  ; 

?T  was  here  the  pencil's  wondrous  grace 

Show'd  pleasant  scene  and  well-sketch'd  face, 

And  here  hung  in  its  wonted  place 

The  form  of  her,  whose  witching  art 

Had  held  such  sway  o'er  L'Ornay's  heart ; 


a 

THE    DENOUEMENT.  67 

And  Clara,  as  she  led  the  way, 
Bade  him,  in  tone  half  sad,  half  gay, 
Come  and  look  on  the  charms  of  her 
Who  kill'd  her  fondest  worshipper. 

XVII. 

He  enter'd,  yet  with  solemn  fear, 

And,  slowly  following,  drew  near, 

Nor  halted,  till  he  stood  beneath 

The  canvass  that  had  cheated  death. 

He  look'd  a  moment,  then,  amazed, 

Started,  drew  back,  then,  breathless,  gazed : 

Unconsciously  and  slow  he  spoke — 

"  My  mother  !  " — and  the  spell  was  broke. 

As  bursting  light  upon  the  blind, 

So  flash'd  the  truth  on  Redburn's  mind  ; 

He  turn'd  himself,  he  bent  the  knee, 

And  forth  the  words  came  fast  and  free  ; 

No  need  for  bashful  silence  now — 

And  from  the  smiling  lip,  and  glow 

Upon  the  maiden's  cheek  and  brow, 

Those  were  not  slighted  words,  I  trow  ; 


68  REDBURN. 


Yet  what  he  told  the  damsel  then, 
I  think  'I  may  not  tell  again. 


XVIII. 

The  evening  sun,  just  sinking  low 

Behind  the  hill-tops  blue, 
Tinged  the  opposing  mountain's  brow 

With  a  bright,  golden  hue, — 

XIX. 

When  started  from  the  river's  shore 

A  boat,  with  printless  track, 
While  clung  the  waves  around  the  prore 

That  gently  push'd  them  back. 

xx. 

The  waters  broke  'neath  steady  stroke 
Of  rower's  flashing  blade, — 

The  deep-cut  wound  without  a  sound, 
Heal'd  up  as  soon  as  made. 


THE    DENOUEMENT.  69 


XXI. 

With  measured  sweep  they  took  their  course 

To  where  the  school  did  stand, 
Till,  driven  by  a  bolder  force, 

The  keel  ploughed  up  the  sand. 

XXII. 

Hark  !  loud  notes  of  festivity 

Are  heard  from  Ellen's  home, 
Where,  gathering  from  afar  and  nigh, 

The  bridal-bidden  come ; — 

XXIII. 

Maiden  and  swain  in  youthful  bloom 

The  priest  in  honour'd  state, 
And  Harvey,  as  the  envied  groom 

More  happy  than  when  great. 

XXIV. 

And  they  who  from  that  shallop  spring, 
Walk  thither  side  by  side, 


ft 

70  HEDBURN. 


One,  close  tc  whom  a  maid  doth  cling 
Young  Redburn  and  his  bride. 


xxv. 


They  mingle  in  that  happy  throng, 

The  gayest  of  the  gay, 
And  listen  to  the  rustic  song, 

And  join  the  rustic  play. 


XXVI. 


And  since  they  smiled  so  gladly  then 
Full  many  a  sun  has  shone, 

Autumns  have  pour'd  their  fruits  again, 
And  teachers  come  and  gone  :  — 


XXVII. 

And  now  where  stood  that  moss-grown  school, 

By  age  and  tempests  bow'd, 
The  sturdy  arm  and  cunning  tool 

Have  rear'd  a  structure  proud ; 


THE    DENOUEMENT.  71 


XXVIII. 

And  'mid  its  troop  of  bounding  boys 

And  train  of  laughing  girls, 
I  've  seen  a  little  prince  of  noise, 

And  a  little  queen  of  curls, — 

XXIX. 

Whose  features,  forms,  and  graceful  air, 

Their  parentage  confess, — 
And  who  have  placed  those  children  there, 

I  '11  let  the  reader  guess. 


THE     END. 


2 


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